


the quality of mercy

by armario



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Daud, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Masochism, Oral Sex, Royal Spymaster Daud (Dishonored), Trans!Daud, Unintentional Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-11 20:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15979469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armario/pseuds/armario
Summary: "The quality of mercy is not strained.It droppeth as the gentle rain from heavenUpon the place beneath."- The Merchant of Venice"When I was sixteen," Daud says emotionlessly, "I took a knife to my chest."





	the quality of mercy

**Author's Note:**

> Well, after about six months, I've finally just decided to stop editing it little by little and debating whether or not I should scrap the whole thing- and just post it. I can't explain most of the canon divergence and I definitely found it really, really hard to keep writing. But here it is! I hope you enjoy.

Quite ready to leave for Karnaca, Daud had been intercepted by his Second breathlessly explaining that the Empress requested his presence in the Tower and there was no chance to refuse. Confused, reluctant, he had found himself remaining in Dunwall to be 'available to the Empire whenever requested' and not handing the reins over to Thomas like he had planned. Kneeling on the cold floor of the Throne Room, Daud listened to Emily Kaldwin with the strongest guilt he had ever experienced, realizing that this girl of all the girls in the world was the least deserving of what he had done.

"Corvo spared you," she had told him, "When your actions had him imprisoned, tortured, poisoned, stripped of his position, ruined of reputation, and parted from my mother and I."

Daud had not dared to glance up at Corvo.

"While it has not been easy, I haven't been subjected to a tenth of what Corvo has. I could have a sword through your back in a word, without moving myself, to deal the killing blow. It is worse that my mother was killed on some contract, but it makes me wonder, do you regret killing her?"

The Empress' youthful voice contrasted sharply with the weight of her words.

"Yes."

Nothing Daud had ever said before had been laden with the sincerity of that one, single word, spoken in the face of the child he'd made motherless.

"Then I do not see why you shouldn't have the chance to repent. You are one of the few with the Outsider's Mark, and I've no doubt we could use your skills to protect the Empire." The words instead of disrupting it were left unsaid.

The assassin chose to look up, then, met with gazes less hostile than when he had entered, and decided he'd die for either of them if it were necessary.

*

Daud's life hasn't changed much since the Empress 'employed' him and the Whalers, though he does see a lot of Corvo. When he reports to the Tower, the Royal Protector often catches up with him to make small talk, which at first, Daud was exceedingly polite over, but now he's more relaxed and willing to banter. Something that he hadn't considered was that Corvo is still learning to speak again. He's come on leaps and bounds, according to the closely-guarded secret of the Tower's sign language tutor, who is loose-tongued in her loneliness. Daud swore her to secrecy when he sought her out for sign language lessons. Just in case, he'd told himself. He's not yet had the opportunity to use it, Corvo dealing well with their conversations, but if needs be he'll have another way to prove his dedication.

The night walk through the city is something he looks forward to. Too dangerous in the day for fear of recognition, a series of transversals through grim streets shouldn't be as fun as it is.

"Oh?" Daud smirks as Corvo appears. "What happened there?"

He points to Corvo's jaw, where there's a fresh cut marring it, looks as though someone smashed a glass into his head.

"Someone got a bit overenthusiastic at an Abbey gathering-" Daud snorts at that because the words 'overenthusiastic' and 'Abbey' are a strange combination- "But I couldn't stop them using powers, because of the music box-"

"The fucking music box," Daud agrees darkly.

"I was a little slow," Corvo finishes glumly with his hands.

Daud raises an eyebrow, surprised that Corvo told the truth, surprised even that he was too slow.

"You need some practice," he surmises. Corvo, as planned, takes that like a challenge, and so sparring on Dunwall roofs becomes a regular occasion.

They fight without transversals, slowing time, weapons, anything, as though there's Abbey music drifting out into the night.

A knifeless dance of vicious punches, kicks, bites, scratches.

Corvo grins, teeth stained red, but Daud can't smile back. He needs this, selfishly so, but also deserves it.

"Stop going easy on me," Corvo once growled in frustration, arm tightening about his neck, and Daud had obediently twisted out of his grasp and given him a black eye. Corvo was surprised then, but now he makes sure never to underestimate the assassin. And Daud doesn't hold back because that's what Corvo wants: a real fight, that hurts for days after and sets his nerves alight.

The fighting never stops, but more things come of it. They see more of each other, on business, or eat together on necessity. That's what Daud tells himself because there is no chance in the Void that Corvo has forgiven, and Daud has never forgotten.

Then the day comes when Corvo aims a particularly nasty kick at Daud's balls, but he forgets to react appropriately and, unfazed, retaliates by grabbing his leg and throwing him to the ground.

Corvo laughs through the pain. "That should have hurt."

"It did," Daud returns defensively. "You just can't recover fast enough."

That's the first time Corvo comes anywhere near close to finding Daud's little secret.

The Outsider finds it hilarious, visiting him in his dreams after a long time without contact.

"Daud," the god says seriously after He has finished His taunting. "You think Corvo will care? Truly?"

"You know he will," Daud mutters, averting his gaze from those black, black eyes.

"I didn't," the Outsider reasons, expression blank.

"I like to think you could see past it," Daud answers shortly, betraying his lingering respect and hopeless affection for his god.  
The Outsider smiles, humorless, knowing.  
"Fare well, Daud. You've faced so much, it would be a shame for you to fall over this."  
As much as it riles him, it's true. After everything he's survived, as well as all that Corvo has permitted him, it would be stupid for him to fuck it all up because he's insecure.

Everything does go to shit, but it isn't Daud's fault.

He's in his quarters, peeling off the bandages around his chest, exposing his bruised ribcage and scarred breasts. He almost can't bear to look in the mirror but forces himself to, assessing the damage.

It's been a long while since that fateful day when he took the blade to his chest, prompting the Outsider to visit him for the first time in his bloodsoaked coma. He had woken with the Mark carved into his hand, and a chest so awfully disfigured it near made him faint.

The damage he had done to himself was irreparable. The scars will never fade, a mass of vicious slices that faded to light pink over the years. Despite his efforts, his chest never lay entirely flat, and he still has to bind it.

The day he found the crates of 'male enhancement serum' in a mark's private quarters was probably the best of his life. Since, he figured how to get it for himself, and he's injected himself with it every week for the last twenty years. A deeper voice, muscle, facial hair, an almost-cock between his legs. Not perfect, but enough.

No one has suspected, and he's never told anyone, apart from the Outsider, who once lamented he couldn't change Daud's form.

"It's all you want," he had observed, tilting his head, almost sad. "And yet I can't provide."

Daud hasn't even time to react before there's a knock at the door, and then it opens. His first thought is who the fuck thinks they can walk in here without permission and the second is I'm not wearing a shirt.

He stares at the Lord Protector for a good five seconds, who stares back less at his face and more at his chest, before he recovers.

"Get. The fuck. Out."  
His voice is low, a guttural snarl.

Corvo says, "What-"

But he doesn't finish. Daud doesn't move but screams "I said GET OUT", and Corvo backs away, leaving him alone, heart pounding, sinking.

He runs a shaking hand through his hair and puts his shirt back on, too late now. He wants to hit something, go after Corvo, sink into the Void and never return.  
He stumbles over to the shrine he keeps hidden in the cabinet and presses his Marked hand to it, squeezing his eyes shut and begging for the Outsider to help him.

There's no reply. Nothing, not even familiar faint laughter drifting on the wind.  
Enraged and completely alone, Daud slams his fist into the wall, denting it and his knuckles which blossom into a throbbing pain.  
He falls back onto his bed. He doesn't know what he's going to do.

*

If Corvo has sought Daud out, he won't find him. He's made sure to stay out of the Lord Protector's way since the incident.

Why did Corvo have to be so arrogant? Walking into his bedroom- it was easy to see something strange when you barged into people's private spaces .  
He curses the fucker, for shattering his carefully crafted illusion. Man from birth, confident assassin, remorseless killer.  
Now Corvo knows, what's going to change? He bitterly supposes everything.

His Whalers notice something's wrong, Thomas going as far as to ask about it, but he gives nothing away. Some of them he trusts with his life, but if the whole group found out they were bound to object to his continued leadership. He misses Billie, yet finds within a hapless storm of hurt and anger when he thinks of her.

It's a lonely existence. Daud hasn't minded so far, but Corvo's changed lots of things about him.

The main thing he misses is their rooftop scuffles. Corvo matches his skill, has even bettered him on occasions. It's refreshing to have to truly work to keep up.

Weeks go by; no Lord Protector.

Daud tries to get over it, but it's hard when he got to so used to Corvo's cathartic presence.  
Until they find each other face to face on business with the Empress.

"Daud," Emily Kaldwin says. Her voice has a practiced chill to it. She is so like her mother in looks that it hurts. Daud can't imagine how hard it must be for Corvo, who is standing motionless by her side.

"Your Eminence," he says, bowing as respectfully as he dares without Corvo gutting him.

"We have need of you and your Whalers."

Daud doesn't want to interrupt, but he'd tell her she has them.

"Corvo has found a violent cult based in the disused tunnels," she explains, swinging her short legs. "We'd send in the army, but they are only permitting those with the Mark of the Outsider."

Daud's eyes dart to look at Corvo who is watching him impassively.

"Of course, Empress," the assassin affirms.

"Excellent," Emily says, leaning forward. She is so small but her whole being radiates strength and determination, so similar to Corvo. "You will co-ordinate with the Royal Protector personally, and report back to me once it is done. Thank you." She finishes, signalling his dismissal.

He bows again, wondering how he's supposed to deal with this awkward situation. Though he's also curious about the cult that the Empress mentioned, presumably of the Outsider. He wishes he could talk to the god, ask him about it, or if he's spoken to Corvo, but he clearly wants Daud to suffer alone right now.  
He's halfway out the door, looking straight ahead away from the guards' hostile expressions, when Corvo catches up to him and turns him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Daud," he tries. That word from his mouth is a treasure, taking the bite from his response.

"Go away, Attano," Daud snaps, restraining himself from outright telling him to fuck off, but unable to play nice just yet.

"If you're still angry about-"

"Angry?" Daud interrupts, stopping on the stairs, turning to look up at the taller man who's also a step above, demoralising him further. "Do you even know the position you've put me in?"

Corvo blinks. Despite Daud's anger with him, he admits the man is stupidly beautiful, soft hair falling into his goldbrown eyes, beautifully tailored coat showing how he's clawed everything- almost everything- back, from nothing.

"I just don't understand," Corvo admits, looking at him imploringly.

"You never will," Daud shrugs bitterly. "We aren't talking about this any more."

Corvo accepts, holding up his hands. "The cult, let's talk about that."

Daud nods grudgingly and starts the descent down the steps again, assuming Corvo will follow.

"It's quite a large group, demanding human sacrifice for the Outsider," the Royal Protector tells him, easily keeping up.

"I'm sure He's receptive," Daud replies dryly, and Corvo snorts.

"Not only is it illegal to follow the Outsider, it's also wrong to murder people," he continues, not looking at Daud who can't help but glance back at him guiltily at that. He thinks that when Corvo wasn't able to talk and Daud couldn't interpret, life was somewhat easier.

"Why do you need our help?" he stops himself from saying 'my help' because it's more about the numbers.

"There's a lot of them. I mean... forty? I hadn't much chance to look; they almost saw me."  
He says that a little awkwardly and Daud makes note of it.

"Fine," he says. "We'll be ready on the morrow."

Corvo smiles. Daud has missed it, so much, like a reward he doesn't deserve. He turns away instead, unwilling to get too attached, although he fears it might be too late.

"I'll see you," Corvo calls.

Daud doesn't even turn round.

*

He tells the Whalers they've a job tomorrow as soon as he returns.

Rulfio says "We don't even need Attano."

That's probably true. Daud scowls.

"I don't want any trouble. There's no need to start anything with him, so let's just get the job done, alright?" he addresses them all warningly.

That night, he can't sleep very well. He thinks about how tomorrow is going to pan out, how much he'll have to interact with Corvo or the Outsider.  
Does the god know he still cares about Him? He knows the shrine's there, has to, although He's never visited Daud using that one.  
It's hard knowing the Outsider favors Corvo and potentially all the others more than him. It's hard explaining himself in front of a Void entity who's lived for millennia playing around with human lives. He tends to clam up. The Outsider seems to be able to read his mind though, which, while inconvenient, means He can understand.  
He goes to touch the shrine, his Mark burning like a wound, but feels no sharp, gut-wrenching pull down into the Void. Disheartened, he retires to bed.

He dreams fitfully of human sacrifice (his own) and Leviathan's blood staining the sea red.

The morning comes too fast for him to rest properly, and when he stalks into the yard after painstakingly wrapping bandages tight around his chest, he finds the Whalers already prepared and waiting.

Corvo said he would meet them at one of the entrances to the disused tunnels, pointed out on a map.  
He relays this to the gathered group, and the air stirs with the force of them all transversing at around the same time.

Corvo waits there. He has his hair tied back out of his face, a hand on the hilt of his sword. He smiles, a small quirk of the mouth when he sees Daud, whose eyes narrow in return. He doesn't want the Whalers to think he's got anything more than an understanding with the Royal Protector.

"It's about a mile in the tunnels to their camp. The tracks aren't electrified any more, but I'd be careful just in case they've found a way to power them as a deterrent. Uncover your Marks, we don't want unnecessary hostility before we've got anywhere near them. Daud and I will lead," Corvo speaks to the Whalers without hesitation. Something ugly like pride rises in Daud's throat.

There's a murmur of assent from them, even though most harbor great dislike for the Royal Protector. Their feelings are far more clear-cut than Daud's, he muses, as one by one they begin to climb the ladder down to the tunnels.  
Corvo falls into step right beside him.

"You think there will be too much of a problem here?" Daud asks, removing his gloves and depositing them in the inner pocket of his red coat, so opposite to Corvo's.

"I'm not sure," the other man replies truthfully. "I spoke to the Outsider. None of them are actually Marked."

Daud gives a bark of laughter. "They're sure to be jealous when they find the thirty of us that are."

Corvo inclines his head, eerily similar to the god in question. "Yes, it's a mystery what prompts the Outsider's favor."

Daud can't help but take it as an insult, but it's fair. He doesn't know why the Outsider chose the pathetic, bloodthirsty girl who nearly died trying to slice off her own breasts, and made him into the man he is today. Because he would be nothing without the Outsider and it's something that makes him deeply resentful.  
The mile walk is over shortly enough, marked by quiet voices a distance away.

Daud holds up his hand, signalling for them all to stop, before Corvo can even open his mouth.  
Having once been inspired by the hand signals employed by Corvo, it made him realise the benefits of using them with the Whalers. If they happened to be the same signals Corvo uses, that's a matter of convenience.  
His hands move in practiced shapes to convey the command follow on Attano's lead.  
The word for Attano, instead of spelling it out, was a finger jabbed in his direction.

Corvo looks surprised, keeping silent so the cult members won't hear.

Without asking for his approval, Daud steps away from the group and walks into the camp.

There's shouting, alarm, when he comes into their view.

"Who are you?!" someone yells. They sound young, fearful. An older voice snaps, "That's the Knife of Dunwall, you idiot. Have you never read the wanted posters?"

The man who was talking steps out from the group whose anxious faces are illuminated by firelight.

"Welcome, Daud," this man greets him. "I am follower Laus."

He'd removed his gloves to show his Mark, but on recognition, he clearly doesn't need to.

"Where are the Whalers?" the man asks, trying to sound confident.

"I left them topside," he answers calmly. "I hear you're a cult of the Outsider."

"Yes, He is the only God," the man hisses fervently, and his companions echo that statement. Daud actually agrees, knows the Outsider will acknowledge that with pride.

The man, older than Daud for sure, but moving with the grace of someone younger, begins, "It is known that you share the power of your Mark with your Whalers."  
Daud tilts his head, waiting for him to continue.

"We have been working so hard to please the Outsider, and yet He has not Marked even one of us. We were hoping to find someone else who would."  
Laus finishes with a remarkably innocent look plastered over his plague-drawn features.

"A follower of the Outsider deserves to share in His power," Daud says smoothly. He has to work on the sincerity of his wolfish smile, but Laus looks hopeful. "If all of you stretch out your hands, I can Mark you too, using His power."

It's complete bullshit, doesn't actually work like that. The group does it anyway.

Daud performs Bend Time and allows Corvo to keep time with him, moving back to tell him to make their move and to appear away from the crowd. Then he returns, checks through each and every person to find that not even one of them has a Mark. It's disappointing and honestly quite pathetic to chase someone's attention who so obviously isn't interested, but then that reminds Daud of his own situation.

Upon returning to normal time, thirty Whalers and Corvo transverse behind the cultists, trapping them in place.  
The look of shock on Laus' face is one he savors. The weapons they've gathered to defend themselves are no use against Marked.

"Stop this, or we will kill you," Corvo declares.

"Royal Protector," Laus acknowledges, panicked. "We are on the same side... worship the same god... you don't have to do this."

"You don't worship the Outsider. He chooses you. You can't kill people in the hopes that He'll notice you."

Daud may or may not be guilty of that too, but not to this extent. The dust and metal did little to disguise the iron scent of blood from the sacrifices these people blindly made.

"One more chance," Corvo addresses them all, but it makes Daud's blood run cold with the parallels it draws.

"The Outsider will protect us," Laus decides, aiming his weapon directly at Corvo. That's as far as it will get; five Whalers stepping in to deflect the bullet before it gets anywhere near close to the Royal Protector (an effort they make for his benefit, which he appreciates). Daud leisurely transverses just behind the stumbling Laus and draws his knife to the man's neck.

"The Outsider doesn't really deal in blood sacrifice so blatant as this," Daud remarks to the frozen cultist. "Though he might make an exception with yours," and with that, he presses the blade in and slices with a practiced hand.

Laus falls; the Outsider has nothing to say on the matter.

You don't actually want to get involved with Him, Daud might have advised, thinking better of it because of the almost certainty that the Outsider was watching all this.  
He rarely paid Daud much attention, but to have two of his most prominent Marked working together must have been like exciting theatre for Him.

Daud takes the rest of the fight to observe the cultists' poor combat skills but vicious determination. They aren't afraid of death, truly believing they'll be reborn into the Void.  
He admires Corvo's fast transversals, brutal and efficient. Anyone who surrenders is allowed to, but after it's all done, only two surrendered cultists remain.

"You'll be branded heretics for your blasphemy," Corvo relays grimly.

One of them uses the last bolt in his wristbow by lodging it into his own skull. The other stares up defiantly, accepting his fate.  
It will take a while to clear out the place. There are tins of food in the rotting cupboards salvaged from dumpsters, a stew of some kind bubbling over one of the fires.

"I'll bet it's human meat," Galia tells them.

"Why don't you go ahead and try?" Rulfio returns teasingly.

And just like that, they're settling in the cultist camp for the night, underneath Dunwall where old trains used to rattle through these dark tunnels.  
There are a few portraits of the Outsider haphazardly tacked onto the brickwork, some more accurate than others. Daud finds himself sitting beside a shrine they managed to construct. The bonecharms, all completely corrupt, still sing a familiar song.  
Corvo finds himself gravitating towards the same place, with a bowl of stew for them both and a welcome bottle of Dunwall whiskey.

"I don't normally drink," he informs the assassin, offering him the bottle.

Daud opens it eagerly, takes a swig. It's shit and old but tastes better than if he'd been drinking with someone else or alone.  
Corvo shuffles closer to him, happy to drink from the same bottle Daud's had his mouth on, which he doesn't comment on.

"Do you think the Outsider would ever be receptive to human sacrifice?" Corvo asks, sipping at his stew now.

"He already is," Daud replies darkly.

Corvo falls silent after that and they watch the Whalers settle down onto cold brick, some curling up with each other, where the ground is stained with sacrificial blood.

"I didn't know you knew sign language," Corvo ventures quietly.

Daud regards him in the flickering firelight. Deliberately, he signs, I didn't.

He doesn't wait to watch the other man's reaction, choosing instead to utilise a cultist bedroll for himself, laying down without further comment.

The two sleep not even a meter away from each other, but even that feels too far.

*

Everything being back to normal feels great. They fall into the rhythm of the fight again, trading blows equal-matched.

It goes wrong because last night, Daud slept in his bandages, surrounded by Corvo and the Whalers. It was sweet, all of them together in the dusty tunnels surrounded by dead cultists, but the fear of anyone seeing his traitorous anatomy kept him from resting.

His ribs, unused to the strain, seem to crack all of a sudden and he doubles over in pain with a cry.

Corvo stops instantaneously and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"What is it?" he asks urgently. "Daud?"

Daud is finding it hard to breathe, every laboured inhale sending a sharp wave of pain through his whole body. Stupid, stupid. He needs to get the bandages off but he's loath to do it with Corvo there.

"Talk to me," Corvo pleads, hands hovering uncertainly over what to do.

"My ribs," Daud grits out. It's dead of night and they're too far up above for anyone else to see. And yet- the thought of letting Corvo see is unbearable. He's been humiliated enough.

Corvo starts pulling off Daud's coat, lets it pool on the slates and moves on to his shirt buttons with nervous hands.

"Corvo, no," Daud says, barely more than a whisper.

Corvo gives him a look that's both pitying and reassuring at the same time. Daud could punch the bastard.  
Corvo deftly pushes his shirt off his shoulders and perhaps Daud has thought about that before, in a different scenario. He dismisses that instantly.

"I have to take the bandages off," Corvo says calmly, like it isn't obvious.

"Just fucking do it," Daud snarls; the crack of his voice giving him away.

Corvo begins to unpeel the filthy bandages covering up his shame. There's new, dark red bruising there, coupled with the old yellow. He can breathe a little better now, still hurting.

Corvo sits back, runs an unnecessary hand down the side where the bruising is worst. Daud suppresses a shiver and levels him with a disapproving look. He's like a wounded animal, hunched over, trying to hide himself. Corvo makes him feel completely inadequate.  
The man in question looks at him and Daud can't stand the pity mixed in there.

"Don't look at me like that," he mutters, averting his eyes.

"What happened?" Corvo asks, wide eyed, leaning closer.

Daud feels like he can't keep avoiding the issue- well, he can, he's been avoiding it his whole life, but it isn't fair.

"When I was sixteen," Daud says emotionlessly, "I took a knife to my chest."

"Why?" Corvo persists, trying to act like he understands.  
"Why do you think?" Daud returns, hopeless, acidic.

Corvo, close enough already, hooks two fingers under Daud's chin so they're eye level.

Daud feels himself go still, about to bolt, and then Corvo leans forward and presses their lips together.  
Daud rears back, shoving the other man away with all of his strength, horrified.  
"Corvo," is all he can say, disgusted.

"I'm sorry!" Corvo attempts, hurriedly, righting himself after being sent skittering a few feet away across the roof.

"You think I'm a woman now? Is that why you tried that?" he hisses, grabbing for his shirt and tugging it back on, exposed.

"What? No," Corvo responds, expression twisting into confusion. Then it dawns on him, the fucking idiot, clearly Daud overestimated his intelligence. "Oh," he murmurs.

Daud can't bear it for another second. Without a word, he transverses right back to the Whaler's base and falls onto the grass.  
Everything hurts, still. There's no one else around, patrols further out around the compound. He buttons his shirt back up and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Outsider take me," he croaks aloud, a curse and a genuine request.  
Seconds later, the Void pulls him in.

"Fuck you," Daud huffs, hands going to his side to realise there's no pain there.  
The Outsider smiles indulgently, fathomless eyes betraying no remorse.  
"It was all going so well," He laments, disappearing in a mass of black then returning inches behind him.  
Daud doesn't turn, would rather not look anyone in the eye right now. Though when the Outsider pulls him closer, he melts against him, feeling exhausted and vulnerable. This rare acknowledgement has him pliant like a kitten and it's not right.  
"I want to watch you with Corvo," the Outsider whispers, breath that He doesn't need to take ghosting against is ear.

Daud shudders, turning his head slightly. "I can't do it."

"Of course you can," the Outsider chides. "And you want to, deep down."

Daud sighs, doesn't deny it. He watches a Leviathan's tail disappear out of sight, covered by shards of Void matter.  
"Face this like a man, Daud," the Outsider says, grinning against his neck, and before Daud can voice his hurt, he's thrown back into reality.

*

He seeks Corvo out the next day, unwilling to let this drag out any longer than it has to.  
He's finished reporting to the Empress, unaccompanied by Corvo for a change. He dares to ask her where he might be.

Her mouth quirks into a knowing smile.

"He thought his presence might be detrimental here," Emily recalls.

Daud worries for a moment if she's knows everything about last night's encounter, or at least what Corvo discovered, then he realised that's unlikely, not with what the other man tried to do.

"His office," Emily supplies.

He thanks her, bows. It takes four hundred steps before he gets to the Royal Protector's office. He taps lightly.

"Come in," from behind the door, which he pushes open and closes awkwardly behind him.  
Corvo sets down his pen, whatever he's been writing forgotten as he stands up.

Daud wants to walk right back out, courage deserting him. Corvo is so handsome, hair loose again, leaning casually against his desk, tentative half smile on his sharp Serkonan features.

"I have some things to explain," Daud begins.

Corvo gestures for him to sit, but Daud shakes his head, too high strung.

"The scars on my chest are because I was born... as a girl," Daud finds it hard to get the words out at first, then they flow like water into the Flooded District. "I nearly died trying to disfigure myself. The Outsider found me, gave me His Mark, helped me. And I found things... potions, medicine, to make me seem masculine. No one else knows," he finishes up, gritting his teeth, "And I'd prefer to keep it that way."

Corvo looks sad, goes to move closer, then stops himself to Daud's disappointment.

"I'm sorry," he says instead. Daud never wants to hear those words from Corvo ever again. It's the opposite of how everything should be.  
He bows his head.

"I didn't kiss you because I thought you were a woman," Corvo explains. "I shouldn't have. I just... wanted to." He sounds stricken, as though he's disgusted with himself. Daud doesn't blame him. There's something very wrong with the man who feels like kissing his love's murderer.

"Do you still want to?" Daud asks, rough but edged with yearning. This closeness is another way to absolve himself. He wants to do whatever Corvo orders, and ask for nothing in return.

His Mark glows briefly, that black-eyed bastard's way of communicating creepy approval. Yet it nearly puts a smile on Daud's face, especially as he realises Corvo's has done the same.

"Yes," the Royal Protector answers simply, and closes the distance between them.

This time, Daud doesn't push him away, opening his mouth to let Corvo in. A deep kiss, needy, Daud's hand in Corvo's hair, the other man gripping the back of his neck.  
Corvo makes a sweet, soft noise against his mouth, sliding his coat off his shoulders for the second time in two days. Daud doesn't return the action, wants Corvo to set his own pace.  
Corvo's fingers go to his shirt buttons again and this time, Daud's shame dissolves into warmth.

Corvo's hands trace the ragged scarring kindly, Daud shivering under his ministrations, unused to being touched. He leans forward to capture Daud's mouth again, insistent and rough.

"Corvo," Daud murmurs against his lips, well-versed in this etiquette. "Let me suck you off."

Corvo goes still, sighing deeply. "Fuck," he eloquently says. Daud sinks to his knees. His shaking hands have some difficulty with Corvo's belt, but it's done quickly enough.  
He presses his cheek to Corvo's clothed erection, nuzzling lightly. It's worth Corvo's quiet, sharp inhale, and the hand that finds its way into gripping his hair. He tugs his underwear down, freeing his cock, and licks up the length, base to tip. He seals his lips over the head and swallows him down, choking slightly, and only taking him deeper.

Corvo's hand in his hair tightens when he manages all the way, and then he tentatively begins to thrust back into Daud's mouth. The assassin spreads his hands over Corvo's thighs, encouraging him just to use his throat. Corvo takes the hint, moving his hips so his cock slides all the way down Daud's throat, periodically cutting off his breathing. Daud can only try to breathe through it; what Corvo wants, he'll give.

"I hate you," Corvo whispers. Daud closes his eyes, swallows wetly around Corvo's cock.

There's no words after that. The Royal Protector spills come into his mouth without warning, and Daud swallows obediently. When Corvo pulls out, tucks away his softening, spit coated dick, Daud doesn't move off his knees.

"You can stand..." Corvo pointedly says, tone somewhat cool. Daud does so, hardly a fluid motion, knees aching. He isn't tall enough to face Corvo directly, and he looks down at the floor.

"Well, now you know," Daud rumbles.

"Now I know," is the echo.

Sensing his presence is no longer welcome, he smooths his hair down again, puts on his coat, and transverses home. Tired and drained, it feels like he's made a mistake.

So maybe it was, a massive fucking mistake, maybe Corvo is sickened by him. He does hate him, and what Daud's done hasn't even come close to easing Corvo's pain or righting his wrongs. He knows he's indebted to the other man but how can he even begin to repay? Would it have been better to push Corvo away again and convince him that this really, really isn't what he needs?

Daud starts to wonder if his even being here is helping anyone. Outsider's eyes, it must be killing Emily to have to look at him every day, let alone speak civilly with him, and he's been skewering Corvo's perception of him quite unfairly. Sometimes he want to shake him and scream, are you forgetting what I've done? but he isn't of course, never can, never will.

The Whalers are happy to accept the Empire's coin in return for some odd jobs, having a particular skill set and experience that presumably the Royal Guard don't. They don't actually need Daud with them, and while they helped to orchestrate the attack on the Empress, it was no Whaler that gutted Jessamine Kaldwin.

Perhaps it would be better if he returned to Serkonos. See if he might be any use there, a clean slate, on familiar territory. The Outsider would leave such a boring person alone, and both Corvo and Emily could live peacefully without reliving that fateful day whenever he passes by. He has no idea why Emily stopped him from leaving in the first place, insisting that he was yet of use to the Crown. The look on Corvo's face had been murderous. A lot has changed since then.

He was going back to Karnaca anyway, and since the Empress had hired him, what had he even brought before her that the Whalers couldn't?

He's just finishing up this thought when there is a tap at his door. He recognized the pattern, associated it with an unpleasant memory, and grunted out an invitation inside.

"Here to tell me it's over?" Daud drawls. "I'm disappointed; my cocksucking prowess is renowned."

Corvo frowns, wincing slightly. "You should have stayed, I still needed to talk to you."

"There wasn't much talking to start with," Daud points out; his jaw is still aching.

Corvo looks uncomfortable. "I would have... reciprocated."

Daud laughs. "Reciprocated how? You can't suck the cock I don't have. I don't expect anything from you, Attano, not a thing, I have actually no fucking clue why I'm still around-"

"Emily wants you for Royal Spymaster," Corvo solves that mystery in no less than six words.

Daud doesn't know how to respond. "What?" his mouth settles with before his brain has caught up.

"I'm taking on lots of roles at the moment," Corvo explains softly. "Protector, Spymaster, Regent, father... mother..."

Daud wants to go to him so badly.

"Emily doesn't think I should do it all by myself."

"Neither do I," Daud agrees gruffly.

"I've an official letter here... detailing the position, imploring you to accept," Corvo carries on, taking it out of his pocket. "I was going to tell you earlier, then things got out of hand. I understand if you can't-"  
Corvo makes an awkward gesture to himself, then shakes his head. "I didn't think you would accept, I'll just tell the Empress to find someone el-"

"I'd be honored," Daud says.

"Oh."

"I thought you were just punishing me, looking at the Empress every day... or yourselves, looking at me. I couldn't figure out why you'd keep me around."

"The quality of mercy is not strained," Corvo mutters in return.

"I told myself I would die for you both. I thought when I saved Emily, I could make up, maybe just a little, for... Jessamine. But-"

"Saved Emily?" Corvo asks sharply.

Ah, so Corvo wasn't aware of that. Well, Daud had never told either of them.

So he launches into a watered-down explanation of Delilah and her paintings and Emily, which still takes a fair amount of time and when he's finished, Corvo's expression is so shocked that Daud looks away.

"Killed the mother, saved the daughter," Corvo whispers. Daud feels sick.  
"Thank you," the Royal Protector murmurs.

Daud, a little flustered, says, "None of that. I suppose we better tell the Lady Kaldwin that she's a new Spymaster."

Corvo drags him by the collar to kiss him, grip on the back of his neck bruising.

Daud smiles against his mouth, electing to interpret it as gratitude, resting his hands on Corvo's shoulders.

"I thought you hated me," he murmurs as Corvo backs him into the wall because he is a practiced ruiner of moments.

The mood turns sombre quickly, something Daud is unfortunately good at. Corvo steps back, holds him at arms length, looks at him searchingly.

"And I thought I did," he answers tiredly. "It seems we were both wrong."

That's a start. Corvo not hating him was a far off dream once.

"You want to eat here?" Daud diverges, fully expecting the answer to be no, Emily wants me but Corvo glances at the clock and nods.

"Emily told me to take as long as I needed," he says awkwardly; Daud smirks. "I hope you've something better than jellied eels or rat tails."

Daud in fact has a little skill with cooking, had to when the Whalers were only in short numbers. Most of those kids rarely even saw food, let alone worked with it.  
He finds what he can in the cupboards, mostly tinned beans, odds and ends like dark bread and cheese, some dried beef. Sheepishly, he plates it up on chipped ceramic and settles down at his rickety table. He realises he's hungry, hasn't eaten for a day or so.

Corvo seems satisfied. "In Dunwall Tower, this is for the dogs," he comments. "But on Dunwall streets, it is a feast."  
Daud thinks he might have just coined a phrase. He finishes his food and fetches two bottles of Gristol cider.  
Corvo accepts it with a smile.

"I wonder where you will have your office," he says.

"I'm not so familiar with the Tower," Daud replies grimly.

"My office... has room. If you'd like to share. You don't have to."

"Want to keep an eye on me?" Daud asks, aiming for light but ending up accusatory. Corvo doesn't take offense.

"Yes. Because I like looking at you," he answers, in a tone so ominously confident and possessive that it rivals the Outsider.

Daud shuts up, drains his cider instead of running his mouth.

*

Sharing an 'office' with Corvo is strange, acting as Royal Spymaster even stranger.  
They don't keep him on the leash normally expected of the holder of this position, but actually having to be in certain places at certain times to report to superiors is a novelty.  
His appointment isn't widespread public knowledge. The few nobles he has met so far have been wary, intimidated, but Daud suspects his court conduct is better than Corvo's when he first started as Royal Protector. No one dares challenge them just now; for the most part, Daud can come and go as he pleases.

It suits him. He'd never have agreed to a court position like this but a few months ago. Emily and Corvo have a way of persuading him into doing inadvisable things.

His Whalers take it in their stride. Thomas is faring well, periodically coming to him for guidance in a sheepish but deferential way. The rest of them he sees semi-regularly, always checking up, promising he's still there, often spending nights in the Flooded District with them when he could easily make the lush Dunwall Tower his permanent residence.

There's been a lot of work because of the disruptions the Empire had faced after Jessamine's death. With Burrows gone and many others revealed to be supporters of Delilah, Emily's council had dwindled into a trusted few. Daud could scarcely believe he was counted as one of them.

This is work he is suited to. The intricacies of Corvo's contacts and courtly relations are things he's had to pick up on the fly, though he's been managing the floods of documents requesting he "look into" someone, somewhere or something, by marking them in order of urgency.

Corvo had the grace to look impressed. He also looks less bone-deep tired, a little light restored to his eyes and demeanour. Daud can't attribute it all to himself, though the sense of affection he feels says a lot.

*

After the chaos died down, Corvo has found he has to start facing up to an issue he's been ignoring.

The two people he sees most of in the world are Emily and Daud. His daughter, and the man who killed her mother.  
Sometimes his bitterness escapes through the cracks. He never stops their sparring, and it can become violent when he's feeling particularly morose. It's the thought that he's let Daud into his life, given him a place and title, and it's almost like betraying Jessamine every time they share a look or smile.  
Daud says nothing. He's walked away with a split lip, nose streaming blood, black eye, bruises everywhere- without a word. Corvo curses his own inability to articulate.

He tries to make up for it, late night. He'll wait patiently for Daud to look up from his paperwork, staring unblinking and savouring the way Daud will imperceptibly notice him looking.

Once, Corvo has the audacity to subtly pat at his lap, and Daud, lip curling, settles his weight onto Corvo's thighs with challenge in his eyes.

So Corvo presses a kiss to his mouth and let his hands drift under the hem of Daud's shirt, tracing muscle and scarring a little further up.  
Daud makes a noncommittal noise of approval, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Corvo's shoulder, breath hitching.  
Corvo wants to ask but finds this is a moment where speech eludes him, or the right words. Hesitant, asking, his unmarked hand drifts lower, hooking the waist of Daud's pants and resting against his underwear.

Daud sighs, deep. He moves his own hand to curl around Corvo's wrist and moves it gently away.

"I don't need you to do that," he rumbles against Corvo's shoulder.

Corvo pushes him back a little, looks at him searchingly. "You don't want me to?"

Daud exhales again. "I can't have this conversation on your lap," he mutters, embarrassed. Before he can move off, Corvo kisses him again, confused, seeking assurance.

Daud starts pacing in their moonlit office. His scar is livid white against his face when he turns, skin paler than usual.

"If you really want to, I don't mind," he says in a low voice. "... I don't get the same way you do."

"What do you mean?" Corvo asks helplessly. He hadn't expected it all to be so complicated- hadn't expected it at all. Everything with Daud's... surprise history, and now his unconventional approach to sex? Corvo almost missed the simplicity of hatred and aggression.

"I've never let anyone touch me like that, alright, Attano?" Daud snaps then, defensive. "I never felt the need enough to betray my position."

Corvo considers this. Daud's a virgin? The thought isn't so absurd when he really thinks about it, not when coupled with his status as someone whose body doesn't match his identity. Though it raises difficulties, gives what they're doing a little more meaning that fooling around. It'd gone beyond that by now.

"How do you know you don't like it if you've never done it?" he queries, honestly at a loss.

"How do you know you don't like congealed boar's blood if you've never tried it?" Daud retorts. "I don't know what's wrong with me. If it's a matter of trust, or just... a fault in my wiring."

Corvo watches him almost spit the words out. He imagines Daud has never confided this in anyone.

"Like I said," the assassin rounds on him, storm-gray eyes narrowed. "If you want to, I won't... I won't stop you."

That's not an invitation at all.  
"You obviously don't want me to," Corvo observes. "Why would you... service me, then, if you aren't interested?"

Daud says, cold as ice, "I give anything you would have of me, Corvo."

The rare use of his forename does not give the usual sense of warmth he feels, instead leaving him uncomfortable.  
Daud respectfully uses the door, but Corvo feels the shift in the Void when he transverses away from there.

He rubs his eyes tiredly.

*

The Royal Protector assumed they wouldn't broach the subject again. They've had little contact, especially physical, since that night, all focused on the newest united Overseer front on the rise of heresy under the new Empress.

"The punishments for heresy can't get any worse," Corvo says frustratedly. "I don't know what they expect from us."

"They know of your fraternisation with me and the Whalers," Daud grimly explains. "And no doubt you've aroused suspicion yourself."  
He says it without even looking at Corvo, which is saddening.

"They want me to denounce you in public?" Emily guesses.

That can't happen, she decides. She's grown fond of the Whalers, interacting with them more now Daud has other duties, Daud himself has made quite the better impression on her this time, and of course she'll go to any lengths to protect her father.

"There's nothing for it," Corvo concludes. "If the Overseers want to pick this fight, so be it. We'll come after them in turn. Outsider knows, there must be evidence they don't follow the Strictures to the letter."

Indulgence in the Wanton Flesh was rife amongst these rich noblemen. Far less the Restless Hands, preferring others to commit these crimes, but behind this, most engage in the Wandering Gaze and Lying Tongue in some way or another. Daud knows them all; and it would take little time in the scheme of things to find the evidence.  
He says as much to the Empress. She has grown more mature in the time Daud has started to know her, that much clear. It pains him and reassures him at the same time, and he makes a retreat with a respectful bow.

When Corvo leaves he kisses her hair apologetically, their time together short.

"Did something happen?" she asks, astute as ever, dwarfed by the cold throne.

He smiles sadly, only ever for her these days. "I don't know. I hope not."

Emily looks right through him, just as her mother could. "I know that having Daud around has cheered you."

Corvo blanches. "I..."

"It's alright. I'm starting to like him too. I feel like it's wrong, because of what he did, but then I remember what I said about forgiveness and mercy. I think he's done a lot for us recently, more than he had to."

Corvo nods in agreement, chest aching with pride for his daughter and his complex emotions for Daud.  
"We'll have dinner together tonight," he promises.

She smiles back at him.

*

Since he pushed Corvo away the other day, Daud has been thinking about it.

For various reasons, he doesn't want anyone near him, least of all what gives him away as only a man pretending. He cares for Corvo, choosing carefully the word 'care' and that means he doesn't want Corvo to think him any less a man.

But the conclusion he's been slowly coming to is- what if it doesn't matter what he wants?  
It's unfair to expect a man not to want sex, and the one-sided arrangement they have right now might _offend_ him. Daud doesn't want that.

He can trust Corvo not to tell anyone else; all it comes down to is his own reservations and lack of confidence. What if Corvo can't look at him and see a man any more?  
The thought makes Daud grind his teeth. If it's what Corvo wants, he can't withhold /anything/ from him. And if he can't think past his cunt, maybe Daud deserves it. Maybe all the years of pretending are going to catch up with him, and this will be his punishment.

On that thought, he's wracked by a coughing fit. They're becoming more frequent, either the result of his smoking or squeezing his lungs tight with bandages every day.

Corvo is coming to see him tonight for a change. They're going to search the Whalers' archives for information on anyone in court who's ever given a contract, and anyone who's ever placed a contract on a noble. Emily's started to weed out the corrupt from her council and this is an under-utilised fount of blackmail material.  
Or that's what they were going to do. In psyching himself up to put the question, one glass of whisky becomes two, and so on, until the bottle is empty.

Daud doesn't hear the knock at the door. Corvo has learnt his lesson from the first time, so he calls, "Daud?"

The assassin tries his best to sound unaffected as he replies "Come in."

Corvo does, face the picture of surprise, morphing into concern. Ever observant, his eyes flicker over to the empty bottle lying incriminating on Daud's floorboards.

"What's wrong," Corvo states more than asks, grim.

"I know you wanted to fuck me," Daud does the opposite of a non-sequitur, getting straight to his point, the point that's making his stomach churn and suicide seem like a reasonable option.

Corvo nearly does a double take. He laughs, a startled, uncertain sound.

"I pushed you away," Daud continues, some of the words melting into each other. "I'm ready now."

"You're drunk."

Daud bares his teeth. "Well spotted."  
Corvo moves closer. Daud sits up straighter in his chair, nerves dulled but still unpleasant.  
"I don't want you to do something you don't want," the Royal Protector tells him, kneeling in front of him in an uncomfortable imitation of the usually reversed positions.

"I want you to," Daud insists, refraining from running his hand through Corvo's hair.

"Daud. You had to... get yourself drunk to even speak about it. We're not doing this, we don't have to. And if we did," he finishes gently, "It wouldn't be like this."

Daud can't help himself. He tips his head back, looking away and closing his eyes. Corvo takes this as an invitation to stand up and kiss his forehead.

"I doubt you'll be much use with the archives like this," he remarks, half-sigh, half teasing. "Come on. Sleep this off."

Daud manages to slip into bed, a hundred apologies and confessions on his lips but never escaping.  
All that does is one word.

"Stay," he rasps, iron grip on Corvo's wrist.  
Corvo looks down at him, vulnerable like this. It's late, shadows cast by the street lamps outside.  
Wordlessly, he pulls back the covers to settle in too. Daud doesn't move, lays there silently, but Corvo can feel his gaze.  
With a sigh, Corvo shuffles back so he's pressed against Daud's chest, who doesn't then need the hint to put his arm around his waist.

*

The warm morning comes with a streak of sunlight through the open window.  
Daud wakes first which seems implausible, but his body is making him suffer as long as possible to convince him not to pick up any alcohol ever again.  
His headache makes him want to go right back to sleep, but the sight of Corvo curled up beside him is something he never, ever wants to forget.  
In the night, they've changed places. He vaguely remembers pulling Corvo's back towards him, but now he's turned round puffing gentle breaths into Daud's hair.  
The events of last night come back to him in an awkward mess that make him want to groan and bury his head into the pillow. If he could have just approached the subject normally...  
The hot weather had led them to curl up in just their underwear, Daud unwilling to forego the safety of his shirt.

It makes it blindingly obvious that Corvo's dreams must be, for want of a better word, pleasant- not that he's looking, but the shape of Corvo's erection is obvious and insistently pressed into Daud's lower stomach.

Will Corvo mind? Will he startle, when he wakes and realised who's touching him?

Overcome by a dizzying, threatening feeling of wanting to please, Daud gently pulls Corvo's shorts down to take hold of his semi-erect cock.  
He periodically glances up to check Corvo is still asleep. He shifts a little, sighing almost contentedly, but doesn't wake.  
Daud takes this time to process his bitter jealousy over Corvo's anatomy.

His cock is a pretty, dusky pink, lying obscene against the angular planes of his stomach. It curves up and to the side slightly, Daud following its length by dragging his knuckles up his skin.  
Corvo's cock twitches and Daud bites his lip. He doesn't still his gentle, exploratory movements, thumbing over the head where slick gathers, moving further down to cup his balls and back up with a light nail, curious as to how Corvo reacts in his sleep.  
A little carried away in his unfettered observations of a body part he should have, the next time Daud looks up, Corvo is blinking back at him.

He stops his incessant touching, stilling his hand over that which he's coaxed into a full hard-on, swollen and inviting.  
Slightly guilty, he opens his mouth to say something, but Corvo just approves, low and sleep-rough,

"Don't stop."  
His eyes are dark, pupils near eclipsing brown made golden in the sun. Daud can't help it, leans forward to chastely kiss him, and resumes his ministrations.

Corvo's only warning is a hand digging into his shoulder before he spills over Daud's fingers, sighing raggedly.  
Daud doesn't let up just yet, bitterly jealous, wanting a cock of his own.

Corvo gives a small, needy sound, fidgeting with how sensitive he is.  
Daud gently touches his softening prick with his clean hand and quietly starts- "I wish I-"  
He cuts himself off, unsure if Corvo wants to broach that subject, ever.  
"Go on," Corvo encourages breathlessly, clenching his fists as he indulges Daud.

"I wish I had a cock," Daud finishes awkwardly, averting his eyes and withdrawing his hands reluctantly.  
Corvo isn't a plaything to be studied at leisure.  
He looks up at Corvo's silence to find him looking at him, both curious and sad at the same time.

"Is there no way...?" the Royal Protector asks.

"No," Daud answers, and when he does, his voice cracks.

Corvo lifts a hand to cup his jaw, but says nothing, unsure how to console him.

At oversharing, Daud feels uncomfortable. He once would have taken his secret to the grave, but Corvo's hold on him has convinced him he owes anything and everything. Billie was right to betray him; what has become of him since his life was spared? He neglects his Whalers, lets himself be beaten and used, thanks him for it, all in the hope of redemption. He can hear the black-eyed bastard's laughter from here.

"I'm going to clean up," he announces abruptly, hoping the water will run hot today so he can soothe his aching muscles and heart. He isn't sure how long he can carry this on. Perhaps it would be better to fade away.

*

Corvo had been furious when he realized Daud had followed him into the party, though he'd allowed him to stay as long as he kept out of sight.

Emily objected to being left out but he'd explained it was only a social occasion and it wasn't necessarily safe for her to be there. There would be all sorts of different people, and Corvo wanted to protect her from any nasty comments brought about by the alcohol. He would go on her behalf, but also because it was expected of him: as so many people had been reminding him, he was unmarried. Despite his obvious ties to Jessamine and Emily, he was officially available even though he'd probably never felt less available in his life. If he had no intention of marrying, no one needed to know, so he pleased everyone by attending a trivial event such as this.

Well, almost everyone.

Daud went out of his way to mock him for it, going through a long list of potential candidates which included a witch, a member of the Royal Guard who'd tortured him in Coldridge, Geoff Curnow, and a white rat that didn't leave Corvo alone after he'd summoned it.

It was worth cramming its squirming body into his mouth and crunching through its bones to see the look on Daud's face: utter horror.

Humor aside, Daud had also expressed anger at the attention. He'd picked through Corvo's letters and found thinly-veiled proposals and spat curses at the authors.

"Don't they know?" he hissed, tossing it back into the pile.

"Of course they know," Corvo answered mildly. "I've never left Emily's side." He could have said never taken another lover and while he was loathe to categorize he and Daud's relationship, that wasn't strictly true.

"Will you ever go public with it?" Daud asked quietly.

"Emily knows; I know. That's all that matters."

Corvo returns to the present and looks around the room, one of Dunwall's newer buildings, dedicated to occasions just like this. The elaborate architecture makes him feel slightly ill with how much money must have been spent on it; money that could have gone into curing the Plague or clearing the Flooded District or anything more productive than this disgusting display of unbalanced power.

On that thought, Corvo notices a woman making her way towards him, champagne glass at a rakish angle in her hand. He recognizes her as Valerie Tayler, a jilted ex-lover of Overseer Jonas. Having read Daud's files on her, it became apparent that Jonas bribed her with land and title to keep quiet about the extent of their relationship. Though, bearing in mind Corvo had read the information, she hadn't done a very good job of it.

Now, she isn't doing a very good job of appearing sober. It's no crime for a lady to have a drink, nor become pleasantly tipsy, but Lady Tayler for want of a better word is hammered. Whether it's the strain of seeing Overseer Jonas again or simply a taste for alcohol, she's had too much.

"Corvo," she greets him, laying a heavy hand on his arm. The use of his first name shouldn't irk him any more, but it does. Those at court have always disposed of usual manners when it comes to him, as though he doesn't deserve the same respect. Although, he's often secretly glad that he can't blend in as one of them.

"Lady Tayler," he answers, amicable enough, gently prising away her fingers.

"Oh, Corvo. I haven't seen you in so long, you know, but I've heard so much," she breaks off to giggle. "So much, about what you've been up to. There are whispers-" her voice lowers like the word reminded her to keep quiet, "That you can fly?"

She starts to laugh, borderline hysterical. He almost feels sorry for her, then. Until she raises her voice to call, "Lew, darling, haven't you heard such strange thing?"

'Lew' is only Lewy Jonas, the last person in Gristol who wants to associate with her at this moment (except perhaps Corvo), and yet, on the mocking encouragement of his fellow Overseers, Jonas walks over to them.

"I can't be the only person who's picked up the rumors about the Royal Protector," Valerie sighs.

Jonas levels his dead eyes at Corvo and says, monotone, "You aren't."

This was exactly the sort of thing Corvo had wanted to avoid. He can't afford to offend any of these people, so he has to go along with it, yet nor can he divulge his heresy in this kind of company. He's starting to believe that Lady Tayler isn't as drunk as she appears, and is actually quite canny.

"They say you've the power to stop time... and reappear within seconds somewhere else!" she continues, getting louder and louder. "And you can stop a man's heart beating with a click of your fingers, or strike a man down with lightning. Or- or- I know it's silly, but even that you can eat rats and never sicken for nothing?"

That awkward phrasing makes Jonas wince, and Corvo nearly smiles.

"Isn't it absurd, Corvo?" she concludes, laughing airily. By this time, quite a few of Jonas' friends are watching the exchange.

"Quite," he manages. "Now-"

"I wonder, why do you cover your hand, Royal Protector?" Jonas interrupts, like a cat eyeing a mouse.

"Oh, stop it, Lew, I'm not trying to interrogate the poor man-"

"No, Val, it's quite alright. I just want to know. Surely," he says slowly, "There's no need to wear gloves indoors?"

"He's obviously cold, you twit, have you forgotten who you're speaking to?"

"Have you?" Jonas snaps, then returns to Corvo, a coward bolstered by the attention of the small crowd. "Come now. It's quite warm in here."

"OH!" squeals Valerie. The smirk that she can't help but throw him confirms that this is all a setup. "Is it a ring, Corvo? Have you secretly broken your vow of celibacy? I'm disappointed. I thought you might," the acid in her words burns the man beside her, but serves only to set Corvo on edge, "give me a chance, at least."

"May I see the ring?" Jonas asks politely.

Corvo has no time to formulate a reply because Daud chooses that moment to materialize beside them. He wouldn't dare a transversal amongst these people, so Corvo puts it down to old-fashioned assassin's sleight. Though there is little finesse in the violent shove Daud gives Jonas, gripping him by the collar and snarling, "You forget yourself."

The room erupts; Corvo despairs.

*

  
Having his virtue defended by Daud might have been funny if he hadn't just given himself away as a Court appointed official in front of a room of angry Overseers.  
And what it has led to certainly isn't funny. Without the bumbling entitlement of a noble, demanding the Empress acquit him, Daud accepts his arrest with only a guileless glance at Corvo, who stands seething, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Overseer Jonas has the grace to look shaken at the turn of events. It's a different Overseer who deals with Daud's imprisonment. Why the fuck did Daud decide that was a good idea? Yes, it was looking hopeless, but Corvo would have found a way to get out of it which didn't involve putting the Empire, not to mention Daud himself, at risk.

"Overseer," he calls through gritted teeth.

The man in question turns back, having watched Daud be ushered away with a smug expression. A shrewd man by the name of Carew, he made his name conversely by keeping his head down. He chooses no side, or supports either unwitting side at once, and steps in to claim what's left after he helps burn it all. The only reason he remains in power is that he, along with a few other suspects, left no evidence of being in league with Burrows, and the Crown had been careful about proving that the execution of numerous Overseers was warranted. There would be public outcry, and Abbey wrath, if they killed any more without concrete proof.

Carew's contempt towards Daud suggests they've never done business, because if they had, he'd be treading a lot more carefully. Though it could be a front, a ploy to remove the assassin from office and absolve Carew from guilt by association.  
Corvo decides he'll dwell on the Overseer's motivations later. Now, he has to play the right cards to win Daud back from their grasp, preferably without a branded face, or worse.

"You've arrested the Royal Spymaster," he informs coldly. He keeps his voice low, mindful of the gossiping guests. Soon enough, word will get out just who challenged Overseer Jonas on behalf of the Royal Protector, but that doesn't mean they have to know how Daud was allowed there in the first place. Finding out Daud and Corvo associate is one thing- finding out Daud is Royal Spymaster is completely another.

Carew raises his eyebrows. "Oh? Well, of course, I had no idea that the Crown was hiring wanted criminals. In fact, I was under the impression that you were still insisting on acting in multiple positions at once. Royal Protector, Spymaster, tutor, City Watch commander-"

"I find allies to be few and far between these days," Corvo interrupts. Carew has almost to crane his neck to look up at him, easily a few inches shorter.

"The Knife of Dunwall will remain in our custody unless the Empress orders his release. Blasphemy on the level that he committed just now will not be tolerated, least of all from the Royal Spymaster," Carew finishes, disgust evident in his reedy voice, "And I advise you don't look to heretics to protect the city and sanctity of the Abbey."

"If Daud returns, with a mark on him," Corvo stops himself from wincing at his choice of words, "I will see to your dismissal."

Corvo has a burning desire to summon a plague of rats to eat this man alive. Instead, he turns and counts the steps to the door before he says or does something he'll regret. This is about freeing Daud; because truly, the Overseers have no mercy when they do find a true heretic.

He tries not to think about what they could be doing to him and focuses on Blinking away without the few guards gathered outside noticing. He has to get to the Tower.

*

He laments having to remove Emily from her lessons, especially literacy, which isn't her least favorite. Callista acquiesces, kinder these days after Corvo demonstrates how far he's willing to go to protect his daughter.

"What is it?" Emily sounds alarmed, and he stops their journey to the closest empty office to put a hand on her shoulder.

"It's alright. I'm asking a favor. I need you to write a letter," he says. "Daud got into trouble with the Overseers, and they're going to brand him a heretic. And worse things, Emily, I think they might not stop there."

He knows he hasn't kept the note of despair out of his voice and feels guilty for worrying her.

"I'll do it," she agrees determinedly. He brings himself to smile gratefully, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

He guides her into a deserted office (more now than in Jessamine's reign) and she sets ink to paper, once childish lettering molded into a careful script. He gives her the chance to word it herself, because Emily is nothing if not observant, and may know what needs to be said. He's been berated also for being too protective, guiding her in everything, not letting her experience things for herself. Sometimes he wonders if he's even helping her.

The Empress clicks her tongue, putting the pen down. She offers her work up to him.

The arrest of the Royal Spymaster was uncalled for. Release him at once. If there are concerns, you bring them before the Crown. If Daud is not returned unharmed,

"I don't know how to end it," she explains, thoughtful.

Corvo considers it. If Daud is not returned unharmed...

They can't be too aggressive, not when the Abbey had acted almost understandably, and they hadn't had a chance to show cooperation yet. So what, then? "You will be removed?" Too aggressive. "We will not be happy?" No, too timid.

"I know," Emily announces, triumphant. She grabs the paper back and scrawls the addition enthusiastically, not as neat as the rest, but entirely appropriate.

If Daud is not returned unharmed, there will be consequences.

*

The letter, as it transpires, was completely pointless and only serves to prove Corvo a fool as he stands there, unable to think past the cold rage replacing his blood.  
He should have known Daud couldn't truly stop himself. Once hands become bloody, it is impossible to make them clean again.

Carew, a shadow of his smug, entitled self in death, lies butchered on the hard, unforgiving jail cell floor. His eyes stare glassily at the mildew on the opposite wall, neck bent in an unnatural direction.

A guard, his own sword driven deep down into his throat. Another, sitting vacant, the back of his head shattered like a cracked egg, leaking gore onto the iron bars.

Corvo takes it all in, detached. He counts a few seconds before he can bring himself to look up at Daud, who has had the gall to wait up for him.

"I had to," Daud says, barely more than a whisper, almost as rough as Corvo's voice was when he first started recovering it.

Corvo stops himself from laughing hollowly, mockingly.

"Did you?" he asks instead, quiet, disappointed.

Daud bristles, picks himself up off of the floor, blood soaking into his relatively new uniform.  
"Let me tell you," he rasps, "I begged. I told them not to, but they did it any way. Overseer Carew laughed at me. You're a woman, he said. Can you imagine," Daud trails off disgustedly.

"You didn't need to kill them!" Corvo raises his voice. He's confused as to how Daud must have withstood far worse physical pain over the years, and yet being stripped of his clothing for a purification ritual is where he draws the line.

"I knew I shouldn't have trusted you," Daud admits. "You would never understand. And why should you?" he asks bitterly.

Corvo doesn't know what to think. There is anger, betrayal, fear as to the consequences for all of them, confusion, and somewhere deep within all of it, an aching pity.

"You know what this means," he asserts. The Crown can't be associated with someone who blatantly kills Overseers- Daud's reputation up until now has only been a reputation- unless they cover it all up and blame someone else, but why should they? Daud said he'd had enough of killing, and yet here they are.

"Let me go, Corvo, or kill me yourself," Daud commands, as much conviction in this as he has ever had.

"I'm not going to kill you," Corvo snaps. He's hardly going to do it after all this time.

"But if anyone is, it has to be you," the assassin sets his terms.

"Go, then," Corvo dismisses him, heart sinking over how things have developed.

On his way, Corvo catches Daud by his arm, turning him to look him in the eye.  
No words are needed. Ever so slightly, Daud inclines his head.  
Corvo does not see him for another four months.

*

Daud tells the Whalers they are free to serve the Crown as they please, but he's unable to.

"What happened?" Rinaldo asks, losing his manners for a moment with his disappointment.

"I did something that the Royal Spymaster could never do," Daud answers without hesitation. On the walk back to the Flooded District, which was a walk because he'd had to gather his thoughts and scrub the blood from his hands in the water, he'd thought about how to word it.  
He sympathises with Corvo's position- if anyone finds out that Daud killed Carew it's bad enough having associated with Corvo recently, but while acting as Royal Spymaster? There will be baying for the blood of the Kaldwin dynasty.  
He's heard the start of it already.

"Empress Emily Kaldwin surrounds herself with unsavory characters. Foreigners of shady origins, corrupt Overseers, disgraced scientists... and now, heartless assassins involved in the death of her own mother."

Corvo and Emily have weathered enough whispering over the years as to their morals and competence, but this would be the last straw. The more he thinks about it, the more Daud realises they were /stupid/ to invite him to stay in Dunwall, let alone stay in the Tower.  
The tone Corvo used when asking if he had to kill them still haunts him. He never expected Corvo to understand his shame and the lengths he would go to keep it secret, but for it to become so apparent makes him sick.  
Now he'll never speak to Corvo again. He's under no illusions that whatever they had before was mere curiosity and strange manifestation of hatred, on Corvo's part. His own is better left unexplored, even by himself.

Daud knows he should stay away, but truthfully, he suspects he'll never see Dunwall again after this. And in Dunwall, with its skulking rats and choking smog, Corvo is the most beautiful memory he could make.  
The procession through the main streets wasn't widely advertised in case anyone started planning anything. Though anyone with the power to truly hurt the Empress would most likely already be aware of it.

Daud learned of it through Martin. He'll never admit that Martin has kept him sane when he misses Corvo too deeply, feeding him information on the inner workings of the Tower and commenting innocently on how Corvo's mood seems.

For the first few weeks, it was reported to be awful. Corvo spent many hours in his quarters, only emerging to associate with Emily, and reverting mostly back to sign language to communicate.

"A procession," Daud had repeated slowly.

Martin raised his glass to his lips, took a swallow, before asking intuitively, "Are you planning on attending?"

Daud stared at him, calculating his motive, then decided he was past caring. "... Not as such."

'Not as such' entailed watching the procession from a roof, with a cigar in hand and heavy, longing heart.  
Corvo's coat a splash of pretty blue and gold colour amongst the plain citizens and red Guard, Daud feels himself sicken just setting eyes on him again after what feels like forever.  
Forever is only four months, but it's four months of guilt and self-hatred that he could have done without.

Martin had bluntly said, "Corvo has learned to live without you."

Daud couldn't say the same for himself, biting his lip to keep from snapping that at Martin.  
"I'm leaving," he told him instead.

Martin's glass was set down too hard on the table.  
"Where?"

"Karnaca."  
Martin sighed, eyed him unashamedly. "I suppose that's fitting."  
"So you understand why I can't," Daud's words almost caught in his throat, "leave without..."  
Saying goodbye.  
He cleared his throat, blessing Martin for passing on an opportunity to tease him.

"If you need anything, Daud, just whisper," Martin said, standing up from his chair. He leant forward to shake Daud's hand, who accepted, grudging admiration for the man he'd pulled away from death's door just one year ago.  
So Daud remembers that conversation as he watches, wondering if Martin could happen to look out of the High Overseer's office and notice him, laugh or raise his glass perhaps.

Daud drops down from the roof to the balcony to get a closer look. If Corvo even looks up, only for a second, he could see him. The thought sets his pulse racing, but he doesn't move away, watching Corvo and Emily walk side by side through the crowds, guards at their flank.  
Emily looks an Empress now. Tall, head held high, severely serious expression softened only by the smallest smile, she is different to the excitable young girl Daud had the privilege to encounter.  
The people call out to her, some friendly, some respectful, others loud and incomprehensible. Daud climbs back up onto the roof and jumps for the next one to keep up with their movements.  
This is the first time in many months that the Empress has left the Tower in the public's knowledge. Daud happens to know that Corvo begrudgingly takes her out quite often to train and escape from the oppression of responsibility.

Then, sudden sound of a gunshot is unmistakable.

Daud's whole being tenses up into a readied stance, searching for the origin of the shot.

The crowd is screaming, roiling. Everyone desperate to get away from the shooter. Another shot. One quarter of the Royal Guard falls. Corvo turns Emily away from the dying man, pulling her close, seemingly at a loss for what to do.  
If Corvo Blinks back to the Tower with Emily, he'll be arrested again for heresy. Martin only has so much influence, especially over so many eyewitnesses. Corvo can't leave to deal with the shooter, Daud knows he won't trust the guards to take care of Emily, so what can he do?  
If Martin is watching this, he's bound to be hitting his head against the glass of his window.  
It is a stupid idea, but Daud catches himself praying to the Outsider to make it work out.

He transverses down into the middle of the crowd, startling many further, and calls to Corvo.

When Corvo turns, Emily pressed to him, his expression is like he's seen a ghost. His eyes widen, too stricken for anger, too relieved for revulsion.

"Let me take Emily to the Tower," Daud raises his voice over the noise, willing himself to sound steady.  
Emily shifts slightly out of Corvo's grasp, intimidated by Daud no longer. At least he could do that for her.

"I'll protect her," Daud says firmly, holding out his hand. And you.  
Corvo glances behind, the around at the three wary guards. He nods at them, then to Daud.  
Emily meets him halfway and her small hand in his is all he needs to picture Corvo's quarters and transverse them there.  
Emily stumbles; he steadies her. She looks pale.

"What," she gasps, "was that?"

"It's a transversal," Daud tells her, sitting her down on the bed and taking his own place to look out of the window. "I travel through the Void from one place to another."

"The Void," Emily repeats, a familiar word to her. She sighs. "Sometimes I dream of it."  
A bolt of alarm runs through Daud, hating the idea of sweet Emily getting caught up in the Outsider's games, but letting it go for more pressing matters.

"Did you get a good look at the shooter?" he asks her, attempt at gentleness turning into a rasp.

"No. I think there was more than one. They seemed to come from different directions at the same time. I don't know."

His heart constricts. Maybe she was reliving the attack on Jessamine, all this time later.  
She makes to join him at the window, but he holds out a hand.

"It's dangerous," he explains.

Emily huffs.  
"Will Corvo be alright?" she asks quietly.

He'll make it out alive for sure; nothing such as this could tear him from Emily. But how worse for wear he will be is indeterminable.

"I will make sure of it," Daud replies, watching the fearful crowd disperse out of Corvo's way, his sword drawn and crossbow bolted.  
He loses sight of him soon enough; this window doesn't have the widest view.  
He turns away. Who could the attackers be? A group of assassins or protesters, old or emerging? A lone rebel with a grudge? It's impossible to tell. Daud has heard nothing of an attempted assassination, but there again, people divulge little to him regarding anti-Kaldwin sentiment these days.

"When you left," Emily starts, looking up at him with earnest brown eyes, "Corvo stopped talking again."

Daud frowns.

"I think you were helping a lot more than he let on. He's gotten better, but not so much as when you were around."

Daud isn't sure what to make of this information. Martin had hinted at it, but hardly framed it like this.  
Thinking of Martin, he wonders if the High Overseer's heard the news. He can't trust anyone within the Tower in case they either despise him or are involved in a conspiracy, and he's hardly going to transverse into Martin's office accompanied by Emily in case he has company.  
No doubt Martin is acquainted with the sound of gunfire. Perhaps he's attempting to find out what's going on already.

"Why did you kill those Overseers, Daud? Corvo tried to keep it from me, but I heard whispers in court anyway."  
Emily sounds sad, disappointed. He's displeased to realise that upsetting her elicits the same feeling of searing guilt that it does with Corvo.  
He has no idea how to explain this to her. He wants to try, which is strange.

"I had to," he mimics the same response he gave Corvo that day, with the same conviction.

"But why?"  
It's such an innocent, childish question.

"I have a secret," Daud begins uncomfortably. "If anyone finds out, they'll kill me, or torture me, or humiliate me. Those Overseers found out."

Emily listens intently, tugging on her sleeve. "Does Corvo know your secret?"  
She is as wise as her mother, and observant as her father.

"Yes," he answers simply. "He was different."

It seems like forever as they lapse into silence until Daud feels the slightest shift in the Void and Corvo appears, stumbling forward.  
"Are you alright?!" Emily's voice is urgent and she gets up to run to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Daud doesn't miss his wince. Perhaps he is hurt.

"I'm okay," Corvo murmurs, unintentionally rough. He pats at her head.  
Daud won't speak without permission. He desperately wants to ask what happened, who was the shooter, how did this happen?  
Corvo looks up at him and Daud is gone.

"I-" he looks down at Emily, quickly removes his hand from her shoulders and signs killed them.

Them? Daud replies, relieved that Corvo dealt with it but understanding that he must be truly spooked to kill.

Emily wises up to their conversation. "What?"

Daud shakes his head. "It's alright."

"Daud," Corvo says suddenly. The complete lack of inflection in his tone is enough to warn the assassin. "You're bleeding."

Like a ten-coin horror novella, Daud looks down and sees the blood spreading across his shirt.  
Confusion starts him off. He didn't feel anything- he can't-  
With the adrenaline wearing off, Corvo safe and the threat eliminated, the pain sets in. A deep, blinding burn.  
He can't help it, sits back in the chair, fingers going to press against the wound. A bullet. Of a likeness to the one that killed a member of the Empress' personal protection detail.  
Daud gets that overwhelming, existential feeling of fear, the same as he got when Corvo spared his life. The idea that you should be dead, but you are inexplicably alive.

"I don't know what to do," Corvo despairs. "I can't trust anyone. I can't leave-"

"You can," Emily says determinedly.

"For who? They set out to kill you today, Em. Who knows who else is involved?"

"Find Martin," Daud suggests.

"No doubt Martin's in league with the rest of them," Corvo snarls. He paces the room, knuckles pressed to his mouth.

"He isn't."

"Oh, and I should take your word for it?"

Daud calms himself, says Corvo is simply worried. "Yes," he answers.  
Corvo sighs deeply. Daud feels part of his own energy drain out with it.

Don't move, Corvo demands, hand movements imprecise and frustrated. Within a second, he's away.

Corvo returns of course before Martin does. He doesn't want to risk being seen, but Martin can.

"Oh, Daud. What have you done now?" Martin sighs.  
"I got shot," Daud deadpans, only starting to believe it once he's said it.

 Ask Martin to watch Emily, please, Corvo signs.  
Daud turns to open his mouth, but Martin interrupts (Daud dimly thinks he'll ask him about that later),  
"Of course."  
Emily sidles up to him. She was never as afraid of Martin as Daud; and he's succeeded quite often in making her laugh. Martin's silver tongue extends to children as well as all varieties of adult. He'd heard the regret in Martin's tone when he remembered endangering Emily; or maybe it was regret at having picked the losing side. 

He's been going out of his way to help them recently- of course, in Daud's case it became clear Martin wasn't necessarily going out of his way- Daud sees that he and Martin are of such a likeness that they found redemption in the same place. He still finds it difficult to understand Martin's obsession with Strictures; it seems now that they've become less of a means to an end and more of a real comfort. Daud has never found comfort in rules and the consequences of breaking them, but the one thing he's learned about Martin is that the man likes punishing himself.

*

Corvo tugs up Daud's ruined clothes and runs his hand somewhat unnecessarily over the bullet wound.  
I don't know why you were there, he signs before reaching for some tweezers, But I'm grateful.  
Daud can't help the sharp hiss of pain when Corvo starts digging around to prise out the bullet fragments. He doesn't want to ask how bad it is.

"You're so worried about me that you lost your voice again?" Daud says through gritted teeth, aiming for teasing but coming out mean. Corvo doesn't take his hands away to sign back, fixes him with a baleful look instead that speaks /I'll let that slide./

Daud normally doesn't talk this much but he's rambling to distract himself from the novel-yet-agonizing feeling of his skin being split open further. That, and Corvo isn't going to interrupt, so he can say what he likes and only risk his life.

"I was leaving. Going back to Karnaca, like before, before you stopped me. I wanted to see you for one last time."

Corvo makes no reply, although it's clear he's paying attention.

"I'm glad I could help," he continues, "But it was a bad idea."

Corvo looks up at that. An impatient /why?/

 Daud thinks about his time with Corvo; how feeling like he was repenting, just for a second, was enough to risk everything. 

"I don't want to leave any more. Leaving you was hard. I don't know if I could do it again." Daud takes a deep breath. "But I would," he sighs, looking away. "If you asked."

 Corvo shakes his head. It takes Daud's rattled brain a few moments to interpret.

_I didn't want you to leave. But you had to._

 Daud knows he's right, deep down. 

 "I thought about what you said," the Royal Protector carries on out loud, voice harsh from lack of use, hands gentle around Daud's injury. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't try to understand."

 Daud closes his eyes and closes his fingers around Corvo's wrist. Just to touch him after all this time; it's shameful how much he needs it.  
"I can't change," the assassin admits.

He can't go back to Royal Spymaster; not with the scrutiny it brings. But perhaps he can serve Corvo and his family in other ways, ways that he should leave behind, but owes Corvo too much to retire. 

 He opens his eyes after a beat to see Corvo's half smile, encompassing affection and bitterness, to sum up their strange relations.

 "You already have," Corvo says. He brings up his wrist and presses a kiss to Daud's marked hand. 

 It burns; almost in approval. 


End file.
